


Sleeping Beauty

by RickyDickyNegan



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: CPR, Choking, Irondad Spiderson - Freeform, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Parker Whump, Poison, Protective Tony Stark, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-21
Updated: 2020-02-21
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:20:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22837714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RickyDickyNegan/pseuds/RickyDickyNegan
Summary: The look of despair and panic on Tony's face was the last thing Peter saw as his eyes closed and he started to choke.
Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 4
Kudos: 129





	Sleeping Beauty

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Aurealis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aurealis/gifts).



> Here's some whump from one of my old unfinished fics. Set during Spider-Man: Homecoming. Let me know what you think please!
> 
> A gift for someone who inspired me to finish this story due to her amazing writing.

“Kid?”

“Phew that was close, I'm good Mr Stark,” Peter swatted at his mentor like he would swat at an irritating fly buzzing around his head. And why was his head buzzing? He wiped the sweat from his brow. All this from swinging and running away from the alien guards. He felt sick. _Must have been the..._ His thought trailed off when he couldn't remember when he'd last eaten. _Low blood sugar then. Ok cool. Thanks a lot metabolism. No wonder I feel dizzy._

“Kid, are you hit?” Tony's voice was laced with concern, eyes wide as his mask retracted fully. “No, I don't think so.” Peter checked his suit, but there was no tear. Wait. He had pulled off his mask earlier then had lost it while trying to escape. He ran his fingers through his hair and winced slightly. “Huh. Shit. Oops. Yeah, here.” He brushed his hair away from his temple, revealing a little trickle of blood where the dart had grazed his head.

He felt exhausted, as if his muscles were turning to lead. He definitely needed to eat something at the earliest opportunity if he wanted to keep up with Tony. Peter wondered why Tony sounded so panicky as he started lecturing him.

“Mr Stark, it's just a scratch. Could be worse.” He attempted a grin. “And in my defence, you taught me how to avoid bullets, not darts.” He felt his exhaustion deepen and thought that if they were stopping anyway, he might as well sit down.

Peter was surprised when his body decided to become uncooperative and instead of sitting down, he started to topple over. He felt Tony catch him and lower him to the ground, but he seemed to be unable to move his arms. This was wrong. This was very wrong. Tony was shaking him. “Peter? Peter?!”

The realisation hit Peter like a punch in the gut. The aliens had been shooting _poisoned darts_. And _of course_ he had neglected to realise this before. Tony knew what was happening. Friday had alerted him that soon, Peter's voluntary muscles would be completely paralysed, including his lungs. Now Tony was full blown panicking.

Struggling against the paralysis, Peter tried to get the words out that might save his life. “Mr Star-” Too late. The look of despair and panic on Tony's face was the last thing Peter saw as his eyes closed and he started to choke. He could only hope that Tony would save him like he always did.

 _Sir, Peter Parker is in respiratory arrest. Artificial respiration advised._  
  
Friday's monotone voice was clear and cut across Tony's panic. Peter felt his head being tipped back, and then Tony's hand pinched his nose shut as he started to breathe for him. The kid was relieved. It was going to be alright.

“I've got you kid, you're alright, stay with me.”

The next minutes were the strangest of Peter's life. He could feel everything; the gritty ground under his hands, a sharp piece of gravel between his shoulderblades, the pounding beating of his heart, Tony's lips on his, his lungs inflating as his mentor frantically gave him mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. He heard Tony's breathing, smelled that usual aftershave masking his sweat and could almost taste the coffee his mentor had drank earlier, but he was completely immobilised.

Of course Peter knew the term ‘locked-in syndrome’, but now he was getting first-hand experience of what it was like to be aware without being able to move. To stave off an incipient panic, he tried to remember everything he knew about curare poisoning thanks to Bruce, especially duration, factoring in that he'd only been grazed by the poison arrow and not hit directly.

It could be anything between fifteen minutes and a couple of hours, though he hoped it was not as long. He also hoped that sooner or later Tony would call for help; after all, he would probably survive if Tony skipped every other breath to talk to Happy.

But Tony did no such thing. Instead, he kept a steady rhythm going; two deep breaths, breathe into Peter's lungs, two deep breaths, a rhythm that would ensure Peter was getting enough oxygen while Tony himself would not be hyperventilating. The hand that Tony wasn't using pressed to the kid's throat, monitoring his pulse. “Come on kid, take a breath god damnit,” 

Peter may have been unable to move a muscle, but he felt safe with his life in Tony's hands.

After what seemed to be an interminable time, but was probably closer to thirty minutes, Peter felt his eyelids flutter and his fingers twitch, and his lungs started to resist the breath Tony was giving him. He forced his eyes open, and tried to take a breath. It worked.

Breathing on his own seemed like a minor victory, and when Tony put his mouth back on Peter's, he was able to raise a shaking hand. He had indended to push Tony away, but there was yet no strength to his muscles, and he only managed to let his hand flop against his mentor's shoulder. He might as well have hit the man.

Tony sat back startled, looking searchingly into Peter's eyes, assessing the state of _his kid_. “Peter?”

Peter took a deep breath and started coughing. “Hey” he rasped. “Hey man.” He tried to sit up, but still felt weak.

Immediately Tony was there, helping his recalcitrant body into a sitting position. Peter was glad to be rid of the sharp stone at his back, but even gladder to be able to move again. To still be alive.

Then he felt it, and groaned. Immediately Tony looked concerned and afraid again. “What is it? Just take deep breaths... Peter?”. Peter scrunched up his face. “It's ok, kiddo, it's most likely just paraesthesia. It will be gone in a minute,”

The pins and needles feeling coursing all over Peter's body as his nerves and muscles fired again was annoying, but a small price to pay, all things considered. Still, he needed to move to get rid of the ants crawling inside his body. “Mr Stark, I need to stand up.”

“All right, then, sleeping beauty, up you come.” Tony helped Peter to his feet, but instead of being able to stand unassisted just yet, Peter fell forward. Tony caught him in what from any other person Peter would call a hug, and he decided to hug his mentor back.

“Does that make you Prince Charming?” the kid laughed teasingly. “Prince?” Tony said distastefully, “No. Charming?” He trailed off, and Peter supplied, “When you want to be, Mr Stark. Seriously Tony, thank you. You saved my life.”

Tony scoffed, still holding on to Peter. “You should have ducked.” Peter was too happy to have come out of that scrape with death, none the worse for wear than get really annoyed at the reminder. “Yeah.” There was an agreeing hum from Tony. “How're you feeling?”

Peter considered. “I have a slight headache, but that's nothing new.” He sighed, and reluctantly let go of Tony. “I could murder a soda though.”

Tony scratched his beard mid thought and smiled at Peter. “Let's get you back to the tower.”


End file.
